Sinners And Saints
by leahsome9
Summary: After witnessing the death of his one true love at the hands of the tyrannical rulers of New Orleans, Klaus and Caroline Mikaelson, Damon Salvatore is warned never to return to the 'Big Easy'. Angry and thirsting for vengeance, he promises to spark the revolution needed to put an end to the Mikaelsons' reign of terror. Established Klaroline. May move to M rating.
1. Chapter 1

**Sinners And Saints**

Prologue.

The excited mumblings of the people in the room carried throughout the building, reaching the ears of the men in the hallway as they dragged along the dead weight of the unconscious Damon Salvatore. The toes of the man's worn leather boots scraped harshly against the floorboards as they entered the main hall of the mansion. They were met with a great eruption of boos and heckles as they placed Damon on an old wooden chair in the corner of the room. They tied him to it using metal chains doused in vervain, winding them around the helpless man until they could be felt squeezing against his sides tightly in a manner that would kill any ordinary man, any human man at least. The guards then simply stood beside him and waited.

The shouts and promises of damnation continued until a loud bang abruptly silenced them from the balcony above. Damon began to stir in his seat as he started to painfully regain consciousness. He groaned as he opened his eyes, and was welcomed by the dull burn of the vervain sizzling through his pale skin. Confused and disoriented, he followed the eyes of the crowd as they gazed up at the balcony which jutted out like a cliff to tower menacingly over them.

The grand double doors had swung open and violently hit the walls beside them, creating an almighty thump that indicated the arrival of the pair that would act as both the judge and the jury. The silence was eerie as they emerged from the depths of the mansion to greet the crowds. On the right stood a man of average height with a strong, lean build. He had short dark hair that was slightly unkempt, with light blue eyes that glinted curiously. He was dressed casually, wearing a simple brown sweater and navy blue jeans, an outfit that allowed him to blend in with the common riff-raff of the city of New Orleans. His arm was linked carelessly with the woman to his left, whose blonde hair and electric blue eyes served to capture the attention of every male below. Her black dress rose just above the knee and clung to her shape perfectly, further accentuating her effortless beauty. They didn't smile or speak or even look at one another as they descended the winding marble staircase, but their intimidating presence was enough to capture the audience's attention.

Damon glared furiously and began to struggle against his restraints as he saw them approach. He knew who they were, of course everyone did, but he liked to consider himself particularly well acquainted. Niklaus and Caroline Mikaelson, The King and Queen of New Orleans. They were a match made in hell and would most likely and very literally be the death of him.

But as they strolled towards the centre of the room, Damon's eyes began to focus on another figure that, at present, was standing with their back against him. It was a woman, that much was clear, with long brown hair that cascaded gently down her back and curled slightly at the ends. She kind of reminded him of Elena. But Elena couldn't be here. He had told her to run, far away and never look back, to never return for him. He wouldn't allow Klaus to hurt her. He was willing to take sole responsibility for their actions.

He continued to look at the woman until a feeling of dread began to creep up on him. He had told her to run, but did she? Did they find her? Is this woman Elena? The hair, the tanned skin, this woman's height, it all matched up. And as she gently turned her head all his greatest fears became reality.

"Elena!". He called out to her. She moved to slowly face him, her deep brown eyes bore into his own, apologetically and achingly full of regret. He started to fight against the chains keeping him from her, from wrapping her in his arms, but it was useless, he knew it was useless.

"Steady on there, mate." Chimed in a lilting British accent. "We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. After all, we wouldn't want you to pass out before you get to witness your love's ultimate demise now would we?" Klaus smiled at him and then turned to face his right-hand man, Marcel. "Marcel would you please tell Ms. Gilbert and Mr. Salvatore why exactly they are here." The tall dark skinned man turned to face the two 'defendants'. "You have both been charged of treason, consorting with the witches and plotting to kill the King of New Orleans, all of which are crimes punishable by death."

"Punishable by death you say?" Klaus asked, and Damon could sense the mockery in his tone. He grinned and once again gathered the crowd's attention. "Well what do you say then my friends? Should these traitors pay the ultimate price for their hateful and treasonous crimes?" The crowd roared and cheered in response. They then proceeded to chant "Kill, kill, kill!". Klaus smiled at their enthusiasm as he began to walk back towards his wife. "Well then love, what's the final verdict?" He took her hand and kissed it tenderly as their audience once again simmered down to a whisper in anticipation. Caroline smirked gingerly down at him as she looked into his eyes with a stare that would send shivers down the spine of any man or beast. She then settled her eyes on Elena and slowly uttered the final verdict " Those who consort with witches deserve to die like witches. Burn her at the stake." The bloodthirsty crowd howled out their agreement.

"Nooo!" Damon's shouts were drowned out as two of Klaus' henchmen grabbed Elena by her arms and lifted her of the ground effortlessly. She didn't cry or struggle, but seemed to just allow them to tie her body to the wooden cross situated just below the staircase. Damon had always thought it was just there ironically, but apparently it had a much more practical use. They wrapped her delicate body in unforgiving steel chains which bound her ominously to the large wooden cross. Damon saw Marcel approach the cross with a plastic cannister and winced as he watched him pour it's contents over the cross and Elena, effectively readying the scene for the conclusive and savage final act.

He saw Klaus tauntingly flicking a lighter on and off as he sauntered towards Elena. Of course he would star in the grand finale. He stopped just in front of the cross and turned to face the crowd once again before he spoke. "Elena Gilbert is just another example of what happens to those who conspire against me." His sinister eyes landed on Damon. "I am the King of New Orleans and I **will not** abide by traitors!" Damon glared back at him. Damon was not afraid of death, he didn't care what happened to him anymore. He knew that a rebellion was coming and it wouldn't be long before he and the Ice Queen met their inevitable and agonisingly painful ends.

"This city is mine. And I will burn every single vampire, witch and werewolf in this city who even so much as thinks otherwise. Do I make myself clear?" His face morphed quickly into a sickeningly charming smile as he turned on his heel and stepped towards the cross. "But actions speak louder than words don't they?" The lighter snapped open to reveal a deadly flame. The flame inched closer and closer to the vulnerable wood until it finally made contact, causing the cross to quickly engulf itself in flames.

Damon watched silently, helplessly as he saw Elena's face display it's first signs of fear. her dark eyes followed the fire as it crept higher and higher, reaching her feet and working it's way up her body. Damon shut his eyes when he heard her scream. A gut-wrenching sound that would never leave him. When he opened them again he found her face. She seemed to sense him staring and looked down at him, face contorted, eyes burning. He felt tears well up in his eyes and trickle down his cheeks as he saw her mouth out "I love you" and smile at him solemnly. This serenity only lasted mere seconds as she soon let out yet another anguished scream.

x

Hours passed, but the crowd remained in the hall and watched as Elena burned down into little more than a charred and blistered corpse. Klaus and Caroline had sat in their thrones on the balcony and observed the entire show, while Damon stayed tied to the chair in the corner of the room. He was grieving, but he hadn't cried. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. The smell of disintegrated flesh was overwhelming and the body that dangled from the cross no longer bore any resemblance to Elena. The were toying with him, basking in his misery, but they hadn't killed him. Yet.

He saw them both rise from their seats out of the corner of his eye and begin to once again descend the stairs. Some of those who had witnessed the event had fallen asleep and had to be nudged awake in order for the to stand for the King and Queen. A path was made in the crowd for them as they approached Damon. He felt rage stir violently inside of him as Klaus bent down to meet him at eye level. "Now Damon, what should we do with you, hmm? Do you want the same fate as your poor Elena?" Damon smirked at him madly. He then spat in his face. Klaus wiped his face with his sleeve as he stood up straight and glared down at the man in front of him.

"Well seeing as we used up the only giant, wooden cross that we have I'm afraid that simply won't be possible." He pouted down at Damon. "What a shame. However that delightful little spectacle has put me in a merciful mood, so instead of putting you out of your misery, I've decided to let you go." Damon wanted to hit him. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to feel Klaus' dead heart in the palm of his hand. He began flailing in his chair and continued to shake until the hands of the two guards he had encountered earlier came down on him, forcing him to stop.

Klaus stepped towards him and rested his hands on either side of Damon's face. "I want you to leave New Orleans and never come back. I want you to remember my mercy and compassion. And I want you to live out the rest of your days regretting what you have done to me and the people of this city. Do you understand?" He looked Damon dead in the eye, and then snapped his neck.

x

He felt the warm sun on his face as he forced his eyes open. There was sand beneath his fingers and a dull ache in his throat. Damon sat up and surveyed the area to find nothing but vast desert and cloudless blue sky. He used his hands to push himself up and off of the grainy ground. He looked around once more and then proceeded to set off in the direction of what he hoped would be the nearest gas station. First item on his shopping list, the cashier. Second, a phone call.

Time to call in a few favours.


	2. Origins

Note: I'd just like to thank everyone who took the time to review. As a first time fanfiction writer it's much appreciated. I also thought i'd let you know that this story will be written from two points of view; Damon's and both Klaus and Caroline's. They both have their own backstories that will explain why they are the way they are now. However everything will be written in third person. It's probably going to be a pretty long story if i stay motivated enough to write it, so stick around, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Anyway… back to the story.

1:Origins

Damon forced his legs to drive even further forward as his feet skimmed the neverending granules of sand that layered the vast desert. From afar he would have looked like little more than a near transparent blurr. He ignored the stinging pain that surrounded his torso, the wounds created by the vervain were still fresh, and they would continue to heal at a snail's pace if he didn't find a blood source. Hours had passed since he had awakened from his slumber, and just like the lacerations that dug into his skin, the grief he was feeling was just as fresh. He had debated the possibility of simply flipping the proverbial switch, but he feared the lack of emotion as a result would lead him to make rash decisions. He also knew that Elena would have been disappointed to say the least given the years she had spent helping him get "clean and sober" as she had phrased it.

Blood bags and the odd deserving criminal had been his life force for years now, but Damon couldn't help but wonder if that particular "diet" would be sufficient in order to take down an original hybrid, his 250 year old plus vampire wife and their army of willing and unwilling servants. It seemed doubtful. The power that Klaus possessed was incredible and unlike anything Damon had ever witnessed in all of his 145 years, and that power was exerted to it's fullest over the course of the past two days. In the space of just 58 hours Damon had gone from living in a penthouse apartment on Bourbon Street to inhabiting a desert in the middle of No-man's Land.

To think that if he and Elena had never gotten involved in Elijah's so-called "rebellion" they would probably be lying in bed right now, or maybe at Rousseau's sipping the finest bourbon outside of Kentucky.

But then again one mistake is all a person needs to make before they find that their existence is crumbling down around them.

_**Flashback- The day of the ritual**_

"_Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?". Elena looked at him, her eyes shining mildly with amusement. She stepped towards him and gently took Damon's hand in hers. "I'll be fine, don't worry." She gave his hand a quick squeeze to assure him. "I'll deliver the stake to Elijah and be back at your side before you even notice I'm gone". Elena smiled softly and leaned forward to give Damon a tender kiss. It was short, sweet and familiar._

_Damon nodded his head and took a moment to observe her face. Deep brown eyes, soft tanned skin and long dark locks that fell down over her shoulders. He sighed. "Alright. Now go before I change my mind." Elena grinned and gave him one last peck on the lips before turning and speeding off into the distance._

_In her hands Elena clutched a narrow velvet case. A fitting gift for the King and Queen of New Orleans. They deserved nothing less than the grandest of tokens in celebration of their 250th anniversary, and Elena was determined that she was going to be there for when they "received" it._

_The moon was slightly hidden behind the dark clouds above. It was a cold evening. The air was mellow and chilly as midnight approached. The anniversary ball was the most anticipated event in years and would no doubt be a night to remember. The most revered vampires from all over the world had come to New Orleans to wish the happy couple well. It was Klaus' opportunity to display just how good of a ruler he was, to show that everyone was content and that he was well respected by all of his people; vampires, werewolves and witches alike. There was no question that he would destroy anyone or anything that was to threaten the night's success. That included his own friends and family._

_Elijah was well aware of this fact. He had sparingly followed his brother for years, being able to come and go as he pleased. He had had the displeasure of witnessing his brother come into his own as ruler of New Orleans and had watched as Klaus developed his particular method of "dealing" with traitors and rebels. It was brutal and unforgiving. He knew this, and he knew the great risk he was about to undertake, but he was tired of his brother's reckless tyranny, and tonight would be the night that it would end. He was convinced of that much._

_Of course he was a guest of honour at this evening's event. The brother of the King. Despite his younger brother's ultimate status, Elijah was also well respected amongst the supernatural community of New Orleans. He was famed for his mercy and compassion, but previous to the organisation of the rebellion he had been shunned for being "too weak" to take a stand against Klaus and for not caring about the people who were mistreated by the King. As a result it had been difficult to gain their support as many believed Elijah's rebellion was just another attempt by Klaus to root out potential traitors. He had convinced them eventually with promises and inspiring speeches, as well as earning the trust of Damon Salvatore, who was notorious for his desire for a rebellion. It had taken months of planning but the day had finally come. Tonight was the night everyone had been waiting for._

_11:47. The spell would be underway quite soon. Elijah scanned the floor of the ballroom for Elena, but she was nowhere to be seen. His forehead creased in concern. If Elena wasn't here before the spell began the whole plan was bound for failure._

_He continued to glance at his watch as the minutes ticked by. Elijah was growing restless. But just as he was about to make his way back towards the entrance someone grasped his arm, making him twitch slightly in shock; a foreign sensation. He turned his head and sighed in shear relief as his eyes found Elena's._

"_Do you have it?", he questioned._

"_Of course", Elena replied._

"_Very well. Let's make our way towards the main hall shall we. We wouldn't want to miss the arrival of our hosts now would we?"._

_Elena grinned at him, although with a slight air of nervousness. Elijah held out his arm for her to take, a reassuring gesture, which she took, and they made their way out of the dining area and into the grand hall. The hall's ceilings rose to the heights of the Sistine Chapel and was adorned with delicate illustrations of beautiful roses, winding branches and other wondrous depictions of nature, Klaus' own work. The balcony stood tall and was attached to a great staircase that led down to the main floor. Every item that existed within the space was of the finest material, from the most exotic places and served to compliment each other. The room was truly a sight to behold._

_The guests gathered below the balcony and waited for the arrival of their hosts. And as Elijah predicted, at precisely 11:55 the doors above swung open to reveal the King and Queen. Klaus was dressed in a sharp tuxedo with a neatly made bow tie around his neck, while Caroline shined in a deep green gown that flowed and stretched passed her ankles. The couple smiled as they approached the balcony's bannister, arm in arm, and carefully scanned the vast ocean of people below._

_Elijah quietly observed his brother's features. Relaxed, carefree. Unassuming. He then averted his eyes towards Caroline. She too seemed quite content, always the more guarded of the two, but that was understandable. He suppressed a sigh. Caroline should never have been destined for this world. It had destroyed her inevitably, it always did. She had become harsh over the years. Caroline Forbes was a kind, caring individual. Caroline Mikaelson was something else entirely._

"_Good evening, my friends and welcome to our 250 year anniversary ball!", Klaus began. _

_He spoke confidently, like a King. _

"_First of all Caroline and I would like to thank you all for taking an evening out of your busy schedule to be with us tonight"_

_He glanced at the woman beside him and smiled gently before turning back to his audience. _

"_I see many familiar faces, those of you who were probably present at our 100th anniversary ball and our 101st anniversary ball and our 102nd anniversary ball… and I think you get the picture." _

_There were a few chuckles in the crowd._

"_And I suppose you could say that this is just another one. But it isn't. 250 years is quite the milestone, isn't it?" He asked, amusement evident in his voice. _

"_A quarter of a century of ruling by the side of another. Each year that has passed has been a testament to the absolute control that we have in this city"._

_Elijah was sure he could see a wicked glint in Klaus' eyes. But was he just being paranoid?_

"_People have attempted to overthrow me, but of course that's inevitable. All sorts of people, from different lands, different families, and so on. But there is one thing that they all have in common."_

_Klaus looked down at the swarms below, and for a moment Elijah was certain that he was staring right at him._

_Klaus paused before loudly declaring, "They have all tried and they have all failed."_

_The room was silent for a long moment before Klaus finally spoke again._

"_But we're not here to discuss such matters, after all it's a celebration!" His face quickly transformed into a perfect smile. "And now if you'd join me the-". Just as quickly as the smile appeared it disappeared, and morphed into a sickening expression of anguish. Niklaus clutched his chest tightly as his knees buckled and he fell to floor and out of sight behind the balcony wall. Elijah saw Caroline dash to kneel at Klaus' side._

_Now was their chance._

_Elijah turned to find Elena, but to his horror she was nowhere to be found. He searched the hall frantically, looking in every corner until his eyes landed back where they had started; the balcony._

_Elena was at the top of the stairs, white oak stake out from it's case and poised above her head ready to strike. Elijah was momentarily frozen before he saw a flash of movement above. There was a loud crash before he felt the guests gather around him in the hopes of catching a proper glimpse of what was happening._

_There was more silence._

_Had Elena done it? Had she killed them?_

_His questions were all answered as he saw three heads emerge from below the cover of the balcony. Caroline, looking slightly disheveled, and Klaus, wearing an infuriated expression, with his hand wrapped tightly around the neck of one Elena Gilbert._

_Elena struggled and waved her arms helplessly as she was dragged upwards by her neck and raised until she was dangling in mid-air._

_Elijah's felt his insides churn. He felt distraught, then confused, and then angry. What had Elena been thinking?_

_Klaus held her over the side of the balcony for a few moments before simply letting her fall down onto the hard wooden floorboards below._

_He snapped his fingers and made eye contact with the guards at the door before speaking. _

"_Take her and lock her up downstairs."_

_Elijah watched as two burly werewolves marched to where Elena lay, picked her up by her arms and dragged her out the door. Elijah's eyes stayed fixated on her until she was taken out of sight._

_He was suddenly knocked out of his reverie when he heard Klaus speak once more._

"_Well then, lets get the festivities started, shall we?" _

_His face was unblemished, not a mark could be seen on his body. He fixed his bow tie, smiled widely at the stunned audience and walked back out the way he came with Caroline following closely behind him._

_Elijah took a deep and completely unnecessary breath. He needed to get Elena back. _

_It was time to regroup._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Meanwhile, Damon and the rest of the rebels were lurking just outside the grounds of the mansion. Midnight had passed, and yet they had received absolutely no signal from Elijah._

_Damon was pacing frantically. Elena had promised that she would be here. All she had to do was deliver the stake to Elijah and get out as soon as possible, but almost an hour had gone by and still there was no sign of her. He had a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach, a certain sense that something was wrong. He needed to find out what was going on._

_Damon's eyes surveyed the area until they found Enzo. He quickly walked over to stand at his side._

" _Elena isn't back yet, it's past midnight and none of us have heard anything from Elijah. Do have as much of a bad feeling about this as I do?"_

_Enzo tilted his head slightly to face his friend._

"_Maybe Elijah sent Elena to check on our dear witches?"_

_Damon frowned. That didn't sound like something Elijah would do, but if something was wrong with the spell he supposed it was possible._

"_Maybe. I'll check it out. Do you think you can hold down the fort until I get back?"._

"_Will do"._

_Damon patted Enzo on the back and turned to make his way to where the witches were conjuring up Klaus' fancy "de-hybridifying" spell. It had taken months to accumulate the ingredients, including a piece of ancient white oak, the elusive moonstone and the blood of a hybrid. Tyler Lockwood had been a willing sacrifice._

_Damon arrived at Rousseau's in record time. The bar had been the rebellion's headquarters since it's foundation. It was hidden and nicely secluded deep in the heart of Bourbon Street, and as a result was one of the only places in the city that Klaus wasn't aware of._

_He pushed the door of the bar open slowly, hearing the sharp screech of the hinges echo throughout the establishment. That was all he heard. There was no chanting, no voices could be heard, not a sound. It was disconcerting, and the eerie silence continued as Damon made his way behind the bar and into the back where the witches should have been stationed, but as he took in a deep breath, his senses were quickly assaulted by the unmistakable smell of blood, and not just a papercuts' worth of blood, but what seemed to be an entire sea of the red liquid._

_Damon's assumptions came to pass as he entered the small room. Bodies scattered the floor. Blood had seeped into the wooden floorboards, turning the light wood to rust. Candles served as the border to the makeshift circle. All had been quenched, leaving Damon standing in the darkness. He shifted his head from side to side, every fibre of his being was on edge as he sensed the danger approaching._

_Footsteps, muffled whispers. Damon swiftly broke off the leg of a chair in the corner to create a blunt stake for himself and prepared to strike. The footsteps grew louder, they were hesitant, careful. Suddenly a familiar voice rang out._

"_Damon!"_

_The soft voice made his heart jump._

"_Elena?"_

_A wounded Elena emerged from the doorway, holding her arm across her stomach. Following close behind her was Elijah. No pleasantries were exchanged as Elijah immediately got down to business._

"_We have to leave. Unfortunately our plan was not as… foolproof as we thought it was. Klaus knew everything, and I would be willing to bet that he has already noticed our absence."_

_Damon sighed out of frustration and then moved to take Elena into his arms. She hugged him back tensely. It was then that he noticed her injury._

"_What happened? Did he hurt you?" _

"_I'm fine", she responded quickly._

_Elijah then spoke up._

"_We need to leave. Now." His tone was final._

"_What should we do with the bodies?", Damon asked._

_Elijah looked at the seven dead bodies that were scattered all across the floor, there was a hint of pity in his eyes._

"_We must leave them. There's no time."_

"_How right you are my friend", Enzo announced as he appeared suddenly in the doorway. Damon's forehead creased in confusion as he addressed him._

"_Enzo? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay with the others."_

_Damon's voice was laced with annoyance, but most of all confusion. Enzo stepped forward and the three were shocked to find that he was not alone, because behind him stood Klaus' right hand man, Marcel, as well as several other recognisable faces from Klaus' inner circle._

_It took a while for Damon to process that fact, and then finally his face formed a sickened expression of realisation._

"_No...no"._

_He repeated the words, full of disgust and feelings of almost overwhelming betrayal._

"_Not you...why would you do this? I thought we were friends?"_

_Enzo laughed bitterly, his tone full of condescension._

"_Friends? You left me to perish in a fire, to be burnt alive, and you think that we were friends?"_

_Damon winced at the memory, before meeting Enzo's eyes once again._

"_You're going to be sorry you lived.", he told him, flashing his friend a sly grin._

_Then without warning Damon rushed towards Enzo and tackled him to the ground in the process shouting "Run!" to the pair behind him._

_He didn't have time to see if they did, before he heard the loud snap of his neck breaking._

_**End Flashback**_

Damon's jaw clenched as he recalled the memory. Apparently they had run, but Elijah was the only one who got away. He had spent the following two days locked in a cage in Klaus' basement. The environment brought him back to his Augustine days, not the most pleasant of times to be sure.

Enzo had been right there with him for years before he pounced on the only opportunity he was presented with after years of being a guinea pig for the Augustine's deranged and infinitely agonising experiments. It was definitely not something he was proud of.

He paused on top of a desert hill in the hopes of locating some sort of human activity. After a short glimpse over the landscape his sharp eyes spotted what appeared to be a truck stop or maybe even a store. It had taken a long time but he was finally on his way out of this hellhole.

He once again set off and soon found himself standing just outside the door of "Clancy's General Goods Store". Swiftly smoothing down his tattered leather jacket, he opened the door to the soft chime of bells. Damon immediately made his way to the counter and smiled at the fat balding man behind it.

"Would you mind if I used your phone? It's just that my truck broke down a couple miles back and I need repairs."

He flashed the man a charming grin. The other man looked at him skeptically. Perhaps the trucker story wasn't the cleverest. Damon Salvatore didn't exactly look like a trucker.

"Sure", he replied. "But you have to buy something first."

Damon rolled his eyes quickly. He didn't have any money, Klaus' henchmen had taken most of his possessions before they dropped him off.

He scanned the store subtlely before turning back to the cashier.

"Alright. Can you get me some of that beef jerky? Lots of it."

He pointed behind the counter. The man glanced at him questioningly before turning his back to Damon and proceeding to collect the jerky from the jar behind him. After a few moments he spun back around to face his customer.

Damon cast his eyes on the dried food disdainfully before speaking once again.

"You know what?", he questioned strangely. "I think I'd like a drink with that."

The cashier barely had time to register what he had just said before Damon lunged at him, gripped him by the throat, dragged his body over the counter, and all in one swift motion dug his fangs into the stunned man's jugular. His arms flailed uselessly around as he tried to push the vampire off of him, but all to no avail. Damon felt the man's efforts grow more and more feeble as he drained him powerfully. Within a matter of seconds the man was unconscious.

Damon dropped him to the floor carelessly, hearing the man's head bounce of the tiles with a thud. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand feeling rejuvenated and lacking that familiar dry sensation at the back of his throat that seemed to constantly plague him.

"Excellent service", he said more to himself than anyone else.

He stepped over the cashier's body and slowly sauntered towards the phone that was stationed behind the counter. He picked up the receiver and placed it next to his ear and then dialled a number he hadn't dialled in years.

The irritating beeps echoed in his ear as he waited for an answer, and then finally they ceased as he heard a voice call out a greeting.

"Alaric?" He questioned, needing reassurance.

It was a while until the voice answered back.

"Damon? Is that you? Wow, I haven't heard from you in years."

Damon smiled into the phone before replying.

"Yeah, it's me, Ric. Look I know it's been a long time." He sighed.

"But I was wondering if I could call in that favour you owed me?"

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Note: So that chapter turned out to be a lot longer than expected. Leave a comment or a review, if you want to leave a comment or a review. You know, no pressure.


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